


Keep Looking Into My Eyes

by TerrifiedAristocrat



Series: Ardant Worship [1]
Category: AFK Arena (Video Game)
Genre: Catch Niru Flirting with The New God of Death (since Annih is a Poser), Character Study, F/M, M/M, Mild Gore, Morally Ambiguous Character, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 02:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerrifiedAristocrat/pseuds/TerrifiedAristocrat
Summary: The Lord of Fear knew exactly one way to get his subjects to obey him, even though there was really a better way. In order to reach Quaedam, twin gods Elijah and Lailah need to be tricky with their methods.





	Keep Looking Into My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> THAT GRAVEBORN LORE DROP Y'ALL  
Get ready.

“ Oh I'm the lesser of two evils

So keep looking

Just keep looking into my eyes

And as the lesser of two evils, it pays to 

Pays to be the nice guy sometimes”   
-Bastille, Two Evils

“Let us show you a better way,” the twin gods crooned into cold winds that swirled around an entity of great age, great power. He hid in a tomb where neither of them could reach him, curled into himself, unreachable. 

The Lord of Fear, the dead called him. He certainly earned that title, drawing ancient and angry dead souls to him, using them. Forming bonds with them.

“He’s afraid,” Lailah remarked softly, her voice bouncing in the wind.

“Careful, he won’t like to hear that,” Elijah pointed out. 

“We cannot reach him,” Lailah’s voice echoed a deep sadness she and Elijah both felt. Dura tasked them with forming bonds between people, bonds of cooperation and peace, of love in all its forms. Even though The Lord of Fear, this Quaedam, wrapped himself in terror and hatred, both Lailah and Elijah could sense a chasm in his soul. Old as Quaedam was, powerful as he was, he sought out bonds like any other creature. Seeing him forge these bonds through manipulation and oppression was just painful to watch.

“Not here, we cannot,” Elijah shook his head. “He will resent us,”

“Resentment is something he carries much of,” Lailah noted. “Our touch must be-

“Gentle,”

“Careful,”

“An intermediary?” Elijah wondered.

“A human,” Lailah nodded. “Quaedam is spreading necromancy among them to bolster his power. Perhaps that is the way,” 

“Necromancy is-”

“A touch creepy, yes. Understandable though,” Lailah’s nose twitched slightly as the twins looked at both sides of the issue. “When bonds are broken-”

“The edges are sharp,” 

\---

“You’re going to be alright. Just stay still, a moment,” Niru whispered to the soldier laying on the grass below him, his intestines spilling out like pink daylilies. Or roses... no. Daylilies. Their blooms only lasted a day, after all.

Niru’s eyes examined his patient, taking in every single detail he could- the glassy panic in his eyes, his shallow breathing and shallower pulse indicating that shock would take him soon. Best to end his misery soon. Niru’s blade was sharp (sharper than a broken bond) as it sliced through an artery and dispatched the soldier. He watched, taking note of the exact moment when his patient became a corpse. If Niru understood what happened during that process, perhaps he could better reverse it.

The study of necromancy was illegal, Niru knew. And yet as he stared at the death piled all around him, the stench of their bodies decaying in the noon sun lingering in his lungs like an obsessive lover, his brain ticked at ways to make it better. Ways to end the human suffering he witnessed day in and day out. Ways to help those who gripped Niru’s hands weakly, begging him to save them, begging him to keep the grave god Annih away from their souls. 

(He is no longer there)

(The underworld is nothing but a revolving door)

Niru took notes, because if it isn’t written down then it didn’t happen. His fingers catalogued every single heartbeat, every shard of bone and twitch of muscle. Even at night when Niru slept and dreamt of bones that clacked and spoke to him and eyes that watched him from the shadows of his mind, he made notes. These notes turned into a strange kind of research, something that a few years ago Niru would have dismissed as the folly of a sleep-deprived mind. War changed people, Niru knew, and made necromancy seem like more of an option and less of a taboo. Besides, humans feared it only because they feared the unknown. Niru knew by Dura if Daimon died, he wouldn’t hesitate to bring his boy back. Or Shemira, the love of his life, the one woman who waited out Niru’s frenzied obsessions and was always there to anchor him in reality, died? He’d bring her back, without question, no matter the cost. These feelings were logical, they made sense. Necromancy had the potential to do so much good! 

Niru just had to know more. 

(“Him,” Elijah said.

“Him?” Lailah responded.

“Yes. If we touch him, we can-”)

He had to dig deeper.

(“Hide it behind Niru’s passion,” Lailah finished, her eyes shining. “His wife though... and his son...”

“Their bonds are strong. Their separation will not last,” Elijah assured, blowing a gust of wind to knock Niru’s notes out of their book, fluttering to a nearby general.)

So, Niru dug, and continued to dig even as his hands came away soaked in blood. Once could say it was Niru’s blood-stained hands that dug his own grave. No matter what Niru did, no matter to whom Niru tried to explain himself, he always had a feeling like hands over his own, like eyes lining themselves up against the vertebrae of Niru’s spine. One spends enough time on the battlefield to get a sense for being watched, after all.

“Who is there?” Niru asked finally, kneeling in his cell, awaiting his judgement. Years of callously watching life spill out of his hands had fatigued Niru’s spirit enough to stop caring about the judging eyes of those who condemned him, but Shemira’s betrayed gaze as she stood at his trial, Daimon safe at home, hurt him in a way he couldn’t explain. Niru knew he was going to die. That frustrated him as well, since there was too much work to be done to waste time on dying. 

Niru’s frustration was answered with silence. He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times, taking some slow and deep breaths. There was a feeling in the shadows around him, something familiar on the back of his tongue. Shreds of half-remembered fantasies and nightmares curled around the edges of Niru’s consciousness, which was great and all, but Niru was looking at his last few hours on this plane of existence and if someone was watching him, he wanted to know who. 

“I know you’re there.” Niru did not turn around, but he used his most commanding voice, straightening his spine and lifting his chin in defiance, like he’d done as he was asked to beg for forgiveness for his sins. “Talk to me or leave,” 

“You want to talk to me?” a voice Niru recognized and didn’t all at once hissed at the base of his skull. Niru remained very still, barely able to breathe as he felt something loom behind him. If he turned, it would leave. If he turned, he’d have to acknowledge its existence and part of Niru’s brain buried deep in his amygdala rejected this idea. If he turned, he would die-

“I do,” Niru cut his own frantic thoughts off, pulling in another deep breath. A particular scent clung in the air that wasn’t there a minute ago, metallic like fear and blood. “Why have you been watching me?”

“You interest me,” the creature responded in a low rumble, something Niru’s bones heard before his ears did. The candor of their voice made Niru’s jaw hurt, all at the same time creating a sensation like centipedes crawling along the base of Niru’s skull. His skin crawled as a hand brushed against his shoulder, then another just under his ear, then another pressed against Niru’s eyes. “Few call out to me like this,”

“Did I call out to you?” Niru asked, his head spinning. He knew this voice now, his mind rationally picking out small details and matching them up with his memories, his notes. He’d even look at them if he could, but a hand was covering his eyes. Awfully intimate for a being whose name Niru didn’t know. “Was it not your voice that called out to me in my dreams, whispering ideas of necromancy into my ears?” 

“You recognize me?” the entity asked after a few seconds.

“Of course I do,” Niru grumbled, annoyed that whatever had been literally in his brain hadn’t noticed Niru’s memory and keen eye for detail. “Whatever you’re doing to terrify me, could you kindly stop? It’s hard to think,”

“And if I don’t want you to think?” the entity hissed.

“Then you picked the wrong medic to bother,” Niru retorted, reaching his hand up and brushing the hand off of his eyes. He turned, even though his brain screamed at him that if he gazed upon this creature he would die. 

He was going to die anyways, there was no point in fearing it. 

Niru stared at the creature before him, taller than him with four gangly arms that hung in the air around Niru like the legs on a spider waiting for prey. Each palm had an eye, glowing a toxic green with a cat-like slit pupil, and each eye was trained on Niru. He raised his chin again in a defiant act, staring at the veiled face of the entity that had whispered sweet ideas into his dreams, whose words wove into Niru’s pia mater. Eyes glowed from the creature’s bare chest, gleaming jewel-like above exposed ribs and a carnivorous darkness forming its stomach, cut off only by an ornate skirt-like robe that flowed down, trailing behind them dramatically. Skin so white it was almost grey stretched over this creature’s limbs, contrasting beautifully with long, black locks that flowed down their shoulders and back. Niru’s eyes had to keep moving- if they didn’t, he’d be pulled into this creature’s many eyes, all fixed on him, all glowing so sweetly and calling him to just fall into their green depths and give him-

“What do you want from me?” Niru asked after a few beats of silence.

“Your soul,” the creature responded.

“Assuming I have one,” Niru pointed out, remembering some of the phrases hurled at him by disgusted members of his jury. 

“Oh you do,” the creature cooed, reaching out for Niru again. Niru reached up and took the creature’s hand, feeling the eye on their palm close as he squeezed his fingers around a surprisingly solid appendage. It didn’t feel like normal flesh though, a soft buzzing against Niru’s skin like he was holding onto lightning. His pulse spiked in a way that had nothing to do with fear. “What are you doing?”

“Holding your hand,” Niru responded with a shrug, pulling it close to examine it. He could count the tendons under their skin, watch them move as he nudged their fingers. Really, he liked the faint buzzing as he touched them. “You want my soul, yes?”

“I do,” the creature whispered.

“Why? For, eternal servitude, yes?” Niru pressed on, continuing to examine the creature’s hand. “What’s your name?”

“Irrelevant. If you serve me, I will give you eternal life,” the creature promised. “Your death tomorrow will not be permanent,” 

“A tempting offer,” Niru mused, noticing that the buzzing from his guest was increasing slowly. He felt for a pulse almost habitually, noting that there wasn’t one to be found. “What if I don’t care?”

“You do care,” the creature hissed. “There is still much work to be done,”

“Like what?” Niru wondered blandly, putting on the face he used when he hastened dying fools into the afterlife. The creature made a noise like a scoff.

“Do not try to fool me, I can see your desires,” they said. Niru lifted his head up and stared straight at the creature’s veiled face, resisting the pulse of the eyes around them, resisting the urge just to submit, to lie down and relax, to drink from the well the Lord of Fear was offering him-

“Lord of Fear?” Niru arched a brow. “I’ve heard of you. The few who talk about their necromantic pursuits credit you as their muse, so to speak. I never understood how someone called the Lord of Fear can inspire something so interesting as necromancy,” 

“Fear is very motivating,” the creature pointed out.

“Fear is very boring,” Niru countered. “Fear is static, it remains the same, it is not mutable. Necromancy is a mutable art, how can something so immutable inspire it?” 

“You must think you have a clever tongue,” the creature reached out with another hand, trailing long and thin fingers along Niru’s jawline. He resisted the urge to shiver, to lean into the touch, but barely. 

“I don’t think I have a clever tongue, I know I do,” Niru replied. “If you want me to serve you, I will. You can see into my soul, yes? You can see what I desire,” 

“I can,” the creature stepped closer, the buzzing against Niru’s skin growing louder, their excitement palpable. There was certainly something to be said about inciting excitement in another being. Niru found he quite liked it.

“A bright being like you, you must know why one mustn’t combine alcohol with opium, yes?” Niru asked. The creature paused, and even though Niru couldn't see their face, he could feel their frown. “Both drugs are depressants, lowering brain function until the patient stops breathing. They increase the effectiveness of each other. I do not desire servitude, my Lord of Fear, but I will walk beside you to see necromancy gain acceptance,” 

“What a bold demand,” the creature whispered after a moment. “You do not accept servitude?”

“I do not,” Niru responded simply. “I can be hard-headed when necessary,” 

“I can see that,” the creature sighed slowly, their sigh tapering into silence. Even the buzzing against Niru’s skin as he continued to hold this creature’s hand in his own seemed to slow and dull. Niru waited, letting the silence build. Either the creature, this Lord of Fear, would accept his proposal or reject it. Those were the only options. Either way, Niru would die. Strangely enough, accepting that was like drinking cold water on a hot day, settling the fear in his stomach.

“I like you.” The creature said finally. “You have earned my name: Quaedam. As for your proposal, I must seal it in a different way than usual. One last test, if you will,” 

(“Is it enough?” Elijah asked, worried.)

“A test?” Niru narrowed his eyes.

“Yes,” Quaedam breathed out, pulling Niru close to their chest and bending over him. Niru stared up at the creature, who was dwarfing the medic in a way he’d never been dwarfed before. Niru’s eyes slid past the veil into the face of Fear and Death, his eyes widening and the breath sneaking out of his lungs like a traitor. 

Niru’s brain picked out parts that made sense- darkness, black hair curling around eyes- too many eyes, all of them green and beautiful, watching and noting everything. There was probably a mouth there too, since Niru leaned up on the balls of his feet and kissed it slowly and tentatively. This was the test, he realized as his skin buzzed violently against Quaedam’s lips as if he was kissing lightning, as if centuries of power and knowledge were trying to fit themselves into Niru’s tiny human body. Quedam was hungry like a starved man, hungry like Niru was as a child filling his brain with words, hungry like Niru was kissing Shemira on their wedding night, hungry like the earth swallowing corpses, hungry like skin swallowing the sharpest scalpel into a gaping red maw. 

“Oh,” Quaedam pulled back slowly, all of his limbs curled around his newest necromancer. Niru’s breath was gone for a moment,and his heart stopped for a few more moments too long to be really healthy- then again, Niru’s heart would stop within the next twelve hours. Niru inhaled sharply, a death rattle in reverse, and went back to staring up at Quaedam’s face with the strangest fascination plain on his eyes. No one looked at Quaedam like that, let alone touched him willingly (warm, hot, too hot, too many sensations Quaedam hadn’t felt in centuries suddenly jamming themselves into Quaedam’s consciousness like splinters). Quaedam felt a different feeling than he usually did upon gaining a conquest, greed and desire instead of lazy satisfaction. 

“Now what?” Niru asked,a rumble of thunder quietly wrapped in human flesh. Niru’s eyes glanced away from Quaedam, looking out the small window of his cell. “Can others see you?”

“Only you,” Quaedam replied, the phrase feeling a lot more intimate than it really should have. Niru coughed and shifted, his eyes glancing to the side. “Sit, you will need quite a lot of blood for this next part,”

“Ah, finally getting down to business, hm?” Niru teased- when was the last time someone had the gall to tease Quaedam? The lilt in Niru’s voice ignited something in Quaedam’s core that felt intoxicating. If Quaedam was opium, Niru had to be alcohol. 

Niru sat down as he was bid, listened to Quaedam’s instructions as he was bid, bit into his fingers and drew in the resulting blood, all obeying Quaedam’s orders so very, very nicely. Once everything was ready, Niru sat still and sighed slowly, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Tell me, Quaedam,” Niru spoke Quaedam’s name in a gently reverent way that made it hard to keep a corporeal form, “what do those who live again under your reign call themselves?”

“Graveborn,” 

[Epilogue]

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Shemira demanded, clutching Daimon’s body to hers tightly, rocking back and forth in a subtle way she did when she was stressed out. The transition between life and death was a stressful one, after all.

“Would you have believed me, that an unknown entity was teaching me necromancy in my sleep?” Niru retorted.

“Absolutely not,” Shemira. “I wouldn’t believe it now, if I wasn’t hearing it right now,” 

“Well-”

“And you kissed them?” Shemira added. She could practically hear Niru blush. “I’m not mad about that, just curious,”

“You’re not mad?” Niru asked.

“Idiot. I told you when you went off to that damn battlefield, I don’t care who you kiss as long as you come home and kiss me too,” Shemira huffed. “For someone with as good of a memory as you I’m offended you forgot that-”

“I didn’t think you meant it,” Niru cut Shemira off from her rant. Shemira would have rolled her eyes, if she could. 

“Fool. How was it, kissing some unknown death god? They better not be Annih in disguise, or I’m divorcing you,” Shemira demanded.

“Like...” Niru paused. “It was like kissing lightning, I suppose. Exciting and terrifying all at once,” 

“Next time you do that, let me know. I want to try too,” Shemira informed Niru, shifting Daimon in her arms. Niru stared at his wife and his son, all three joined in undeath, and felt the closest thing to peace he’d felt in years.

Out of sight, Elijah and Lailah bowed. 


End file.
